


Worship In the Bedroom

by magicbubblepipe



Series: Take Me to Church [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Canonical Character Death, Dean bottoms for the first time, M/M, Season 3, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicbubblepipe/pseuds/magicbubblepipe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seeing Dean die a hundred ways, Sam realizes that their time is really running out. They make the most of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worship In the Bedroom

            A hundred Tuesdays, swirling behind his eyes as he dozes fitfully in the passenger seat. The sound he’s come to fear wakes him suddenly in a cold sweat, confused when he doesn’t see the water spotted ceiling of the motel room. Asia’s _Heat of the Moment_ plays, unmistakable, puts his heart up in his throat as he whirls around, knocking his knees up under the glovebox.

            Dean’s there, staring at him in confusion. “Sam?”

            Sam shoots out a frantic, shaking hand and winds down the volume knob so hard it almost breaks. Dean’s cussing him out for being too harsh with his Baby before he realizes that Sam’s fairly hyperventilating with his hands up in his hair.

            “Hey,” Dean’s getting that panicked look on his face, “Sammy, what’s goin’ on?”

            “It’s Wednesday…” Sam mutters, pulling his legs up into his chest, wedging him tight between the dash and the seat. “Tell me it’s Wednesday.”

            “It’s Wednesday,” Dean says, pulling the car onto the shoulder of the deserted highway. “It’s Wednesday, almost Thursday.” He glances at his watch, “It’s Thursday in seven minutes.”

            Sam’s rocking himself gently, shoving his hair back out of his face. Dean’s studying him like he’s got X-ray vision. He scoots closer and puts an arm around his brother’s trembling shoulders, rubbing him up and down like he’s cold. Sam feels like his heart is rattling around inside his chest, looking for some way to escape.

            “Keep talking,” he begs.

            “Okay. Okay, It’s all gonna be fine, Sam,” Dean says right up close to Sam’s ear so he can feel the warmth of his breath. “We’re gonna find ourselves a room for the night and we’re gonna fucking smash the clock radio, okay? Then we can get some sleep. You can even sleep in my bed if you want. Sasquatch legs and all.”

            “I don’t wanna sleep,” Sam says quietly, raising wide eyes to meet Dean’s. He shakes his head, “I don’t want to take my eyes off you for a second.”

            “Then I’ll keep you awake,” Dean says with a bit of a salacious smirk that makes Sam smile.

…

            At half past midnight, they pull into the Parkway Motel or as the burnt out sign reads ‘Park ay Motel’.

            “Never did like that fake butter shit,” Dean jokes, wrinkling his nose at the sign, “Wanna stay here or keep looking? What does the lady think?”

            Sam’s lips tick up in a smirk and he levels Dean with a heated gaze, “Whatever gets you on your back faster.”

            He swears he can see Dean’s pupils expand in the reddish neon glow. Sam grabs the bags and Dean gets the key so it’s a surprise when Sam sees the king sized bed sitting square in the middle of the room. He throws Dean a look and his brother smiles wolfishly.

            “Honeymoon suite for my honey,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

            Sam would usually scoff and roll his eyes right about now but for whatever reason, he’s grabbing Dean by the biceps and turning him, throwing him down onto the bed. Dean looks appropriately shocked. Sam shucks off his jacket and throws it toward the table near the window. He toes off his boots on the way to the bed, sliding easily on top of Dean like a hungry predator.

            Dean’s mouth has fallen open into a sweet ‘o’ of surprise and Sam takes the opportunity to roughly shove his tongue inside. Dean sort of spasms underneath him and groans, letting Sam in deeper, his hands immediately all over him, tugging at clothes and hair like he’ll never get enough. Sam’s big hands palm at Dean’s body underneath him, shoving his flannel out of the way and snaking up under his t-shirt.

            “Fuck, Sam,” he nearly purrs between the bruising onslaught of teeth and tongue and lips.

            “That’s the plan,” Sam replies, sucking a line down his brother’s jaw. He doesn’t care if he sounds cliché; his higher language skills are kind of off the radar.

            Dean doesn’t seem to care either. He’s staring up at Sam when he comes up for air, utter submission written in his heavy lidded gaze. Sam doesn’t have to ask but he does anyway.

            “Will you let me?” he slides one wide palm up Dean’s thigh, teasing his fingers back behind him, over the jean clad swell of his ass.

            Sam feels a sudden flutter of nerves while he waits for Dean’s answer. They’ve done everything to each other but Dean’s never given him this. And god, Sam wants it.

            “Yeah, Sammy,” he says, a little breathless, a little like he can’t believe it. “Yeah, of course.”

            Sam wants to kiss him again so he does. He kisses him and kisses him and tries so hard to show him how he’s grateful. Dean kisses back, smooth and sensuous, tongue caressing him in just that perfect way to make Sam shiver. Sam breaks off with a moan and sits up, tearing at his own clothes, his dick an achingly hard line trapped along his hip.

            Dean sits up with him and stills Sam’s hands where they’re yanking at the hem of his t-shirt. He takes over for him, tugging the shirt up carefully over Sam’s head and tossing it aside. He smoothes down Sam’s hair the way he always did when Sam was a kid. The burning urge to cry builds up in Sam’s throat so he smothers it by attacking Dean’s own clothes, popping stitches as he tugs them off and hurls them out of the way.

            Dean’s got a little line of concern between his brows, watching as Sam’s hands drop to his belt, making short work of it and tearing his pants open. “Stop,” he says, hands wrapping firmly around his brother’s wrists.

            Sam lifts his gaze, panicked that Dean’s changed his mind. Dean reads him like a book, of course.

            “Just slow down, okay? I’m not charging by the hour.”

            Sam grimaces and wraps his arms around Dean’s naked waist, pulling him in until the skin of their chests presses together. The last thing he wants is to make Dean feel cheap. He’s had too much of that in his life as it is. “I’m sorry.”

            He drops his head onto Dean’s shoulder and again, fights the stupid, stupid urge to weep. Dean’s hands slide up his back, card through his hair. “C’mon, don’t get all mopey,” Dean says. “I mean, you being so hot for it really does it for me, y’know? But right now I kinda want to…”

            Sam gets it suddenly. It feels like an icy hand wrapped around his guts. “You want to savor it. You want to remember this. For when you’re gone.”

            “And you don’t?”

            “You’re not going anywhere,” Sam snaps suddenly, gripping Dean so tight he flinches. “Just get that through your fucking head, Dean. This isn’t goodbye.”

            He can feel the argument build up in Dean and then slowly start to leech away. His shoulders drop and he lets out a sigh. He grips Sam’s hips, squeezes gently. “Okay, Sammy.”

            The knot in Sam’s chest starts to loosen. “Lie back down,” he says, “I’ll make this good, I swear.”

            “I know you will,” Dean replies, lying back down on the bed. He lifts his hips so Sam can remove his jeans, slower this time.

            Sam works the denim down off his brother’s legs, Dean toeing off his boots and socks until it’s all in a puddle on the floor. Sam drinks in the sight of Dean’s body, spread out and naked save for the black boxer briefs that hug the hard curve of his erection. He slides his hands all the way up his calves to his knees, Dean starting to look bashful like he always does when Sam pays too much attention to his bowed legs.

            Sam shushes him, passing his hands over and over the skin of Dean’s muscled thighs, enjoying the tickle of soft, barely-there blond hairs. “I love your legs,” Sam says reverently and then adds with a smirk, “Makes it all the easier to get between ‘em.”

            “Hah-hah,” Dean grumps back but Sam can sense the humor in his voice.

 Sam makes his point by pushing Dean’s thighs further apart and settling between. He lifts each leg in turn and trails wet kisses up and down the soft inner skin, making Dean shiver every time he nears the join of his pelvis. He nips him gently, watching the pale skin get pinker and pinker; soothes the tiny hurt with his tongue. Dean fidgets under him, clearly getting a little desperate for friction.

“What?” Sam asks, teeth glinting in a grin up at his flushed older brother, “I thought going slow is what you wanted.”

“There’s slow and then there’s goddamn glacial,” he retorts, pointedly pushing his hips toward Sam’s face.

Sam chuckles and places a hand over the tent in Dean’s shorts. Dean hisses out a breath as Sam squeezes him, rubbing slowly with his thumb. Dean’s cock jerks in his grasp, burning incredible heat into Sam’s palm. He keeps stroking him, kneading the skin just under the head while he dips down and mouths along the heavy weight of his balls. Dean lets out a little gasp and arches against him, Sam breathing in the scent of him, moaning a little as he starts to suck at him through the underwear.

Sam can feel the fabric of Dean’s underwear getting damp where they’re stretched over the head of his cock. He rubs his thumb in where he can feel the slight indention of his slit, coaxing out more wetness while he nudges up behind Dean’s balls, breathing heat over his perineum and hole. Dean knots his fingers in Sam’s shaggy hair, groaning out a curse as his hips roll and twist towards Sam’s hands and mouth.

“C’mon, Sammy,” he whines behind clenched teeth, “fuckin’ _please_.”

Sam freezes and looks up at his brother because in all of their times together, Dean has never begged. He grips Dean’s hips and shudders hard at the realization, his own cock digging hard into the mattress. “Fuck,” he swears and pushes his face into the join of Dean’s thigh, breathing in and trying to get back some control. Dean responds with a breathy sound, grinding up against Sam’s cheek, hot and wet.

With a tremor in his fingers, Sam sits up and grabs the waist of Dean’s underwear, tugging them down, Dean lifting his legs to help get them off. Dean’s flushed cock twitches against his stomach as Sam leans back in and licks a stripe up the length of it, swirling his tongue around to gather the pre-come oozing from the tip. Dean gasps, his head thumping back against the bed as Sam takes him in his mouth and lets out a pleased hum.

He takes his time taking all of him into his mouth, easing Dean’s cock to the back of his throat, breathing slow and controlled through his nose. Dean’s been speaking mainly in profanities, fingers stroking through Sam’s hair and down his neck like he’s trying to feel where he’s buried deep. Sam starts with slow, measured movements, hollowing his cheeks around the wide girth sliding in and out. He can feel the strong thrum of Dean’s pulse against his tongue, so hot and _alive_ that it brings tears to his eyes.

“God, baby, don’t hurt yourself,” Dean whispers, swiping his thumb under Sam’s eye.

Sam just shakes his head, not willing to pull off long enough to explain that his pain isn’t physical. He grips Dean’s thighs and bobs his head faster, his movements practiced and fluid. Dean’s worry is soon replaced with pure lust, his hips struggling not to thrust into his brother’s mouth. Sam just hums in encouragement, ready to take whatever Dean’s willing to give.

Dean sits up a little and grabs Sam’s hand, bringing it up to his lips. He kisses his fingertips before he sucks one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in a mimicry of what Sam’s doing to his cock. Sam groans around him, a shudder running through him at the wet suction around the length of his finger. When he’s got it good and soaked, he guides Sam’s hand back down between his legs, spreading them further in invitation.

Sam takes the hint and rubs the pad of his finger against the tiny furled opening which flinches under his touch. He keeps rubbing in slick, slow circles, paying special attention to the head of Dean’s cock when he pushes in just a little bit. Dean lets out a gasp and his muscles contract around the slight intrusion. Sam pulls back out to tease around his rim some more, making Dean fidget, dick jerking in his mouth.

When the saliva on his hand starts to dry, Sam pulls off Dean with a wet sound and kisses the purpling head of Dean’s cock before reaching around behind him for his duffle bag. Dean bemoans the loss of sensation, reaching down to stroke himself slowly while Sam fishes around for the lube. It doesn’t take him long to find and soon he’s back, batting Dean’s hand away and sucking him back into his mouth.

            Sam slicks up his fingers and rubs at Dean’s hole while he tongues the tip of his cock, slowly pushing his middle finger inward until the taut muscles finally give. Dean gasps when Sam’s finger sinks in to the second knuckle and he strokes him from the inside, spreading lubricant around before pulling back out to the tip. Dean’s experimented with his own fingers but it’s never felt like this before, his muscles burning pleasantly as Sam pushes back in, further this time, setting sparks off up his spine when he starts to pump in and out.

            Sam groans at the feeling of Dean clenching and releasing around him, slowly opening up to him until he’s got his finger buried all the way. He can hear Dean panting unevenly as he thrusts his finger inside him, searching around for that sweet spot. He knows he’s found it when Dean yelps and tightens around him, legs trembling as Sam rubs gently, his tongue collecting a new gush of slick from Dean’s cock. When he presses another finger in alongside the first, Dean’s body practically swallows them up and Sam’s about to vibrate out of his skin with anticipation.

            He keeps Dean’s dick held in the tight heat of his mouth, just tonguing him gently now as he focuses on pushing his fingers in and out, spreading and twisting until Dean’s pushing at him, telling him he better stop one or the other or he’s going to come. Sam pulls off his cock and grins up at Dean’s flushed face, enjoying his fucked up hair and blown pupils. Dean reaches down and drags his thumb along Sam’s red, swollen bottom lip, uttering a quiet “oh shit” before clamping his fingers hard around the base of his dick.

            Sam laughs a little, blowing a stream of cool air over Dean’s spit slick skin. “Stop, you fucker,” Dean growls, knocking his knee against Sam’s head. Sam hums happily, undeterred as he ducks his head down further, flicking his tongue around Dean’s rim where it’s stretched tight around his fingers. Dean groans, cursing him for being a “sadistic bastard” and rocks down harder onto Sam’s hand.

            That’s hot enough to pull Sam out of his teasing and he removes his fingers, adding more lube before pushing back in with three. Dean throws his head back with a strangled sound, toes curling somewhere behind Sam’s head and starts to fuck Sam’s fingers in earnest. Sam curls his fingers in, prodding Dean’s prostate on every inward thrust until Dean’s breathless, chanting “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me”. Who is Sam to deny him?

            “Yeah, okay, god yes,” Sam breathes, pulling his fingers free, “Turn over.”

            Dean does as he’s told, and this needy, compliant side of him is more arousing than Sam could have imagined. He quickly yanks down his underwear and tosses them aside, hissing with relief when his cock is finally freed. Dean’s on his stomach now, fucking delectable ass on display and Sam can’t help but grip one cheek, kneading it with one hand while he slicks himself up with the other. He lets Dean go with a playful slap that makes him gasp into the pillow, pale freckled skin glowing a faint, pretty pink.

            He settles himself over his brother, bracing one hand on the small of Dean’s back, deepening the arch and pushing out his ass even further. He guides himself to Dean’s entrance, sucking in a breath as he pushes steadily, slowly inward. He’s so tight, so hot it makes Sam’s stomach swoop and clench. It’s slow going until he breaches the second wave of muscles and then he’s plunging in deep, Dean’s body practically pulling him in.

            Dean lets out a long, low groan once Sam’s fully seated inside of him, his fingers digging into the bedspread. “Fuuuuck,” he says, voice ragged silk. “So fucking big, Sammy.”

            Sam lets out a shaky breath and rests his forehead between Dean’s shoulder blades. Palm sliding up, caressing the sweat soaked line of his brother’s back as he slowly starts to rock inside of him. They release matching moans and Dean presses back against him, burying his cock impossibly deep. Sam can hardly contain himself, pulling out, feeling Dean’s muscles trying to keep him in, only to slam back in hard enough to make the bed shake.

            Dean’s cry is muffled by the pillow and Sam gets a hand in his short hair, turning his head to the side. “Wanna hear you, Dean.” He growls, biting at the lobe of Dean’s ear as he starts up a slow, hard rhythm. “Does it feel good?”

            As if the permission was all he needed, Dean whines his brother’s name, reaching back to grip the back of Sam’s thigh, to force him in deeper. “God, yeah. Fuck, Sam, you have no idea.” Sam breathes a laugh against his ear and says, “Oh, I think I do.”

            He pushes up on his elbows then, picking up his pace. He snaps his hips in hard and fast, using all of his weight to drive his cock in and out of him. Dean starts letting out little “oh, oh, oh,” sounds that match the pattern of Sam’s thrusts and suddenly, Dean’s body is seizing up underneath him, muscles pulsing and practically strangling Sam’s cock. Dean lets out a gorgeous noise between a shout and a moan and starts pumping his hips erratically between the bed and Sam.

            “Jesus, Dean,” Sam gasps, “Did you just come?”

            Dean can’t do anything but shiver and nod and it’s one of the hottest things Sam has ever seen. “Oh fuck, lemme see.” Sam says and pulls out completely, grabbing Dean around the shoulders to turn him over. Dean goes boneless and lets himself be manhandled easily. Sam tugs him out of the wet spot and stares down at Dean who is red all the way down to his nipples, his cock still rock hard against his stomach, sluggishly dripping out another pearl of come.

            Dean stares right back, his pretty mouth hanging open and panting hard. Sam grabs him under the thighs and shoves them up to his chest, effortlessly sliding back inside him. Dean whimpers, clutching at Sam’s waist as he starts a rough, punishing rhythm. “Fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sam purrs, leaning down to snag Dean’s mouth in a messy kiss as he pounds him harder into the mattress.

            Dean winds his legs tight around Sam’s hips, his dick still flushed and heavy on his stomach as Sam kneels up further on his knees and finds the perfect angle to ram right into Dean’s prostate. Dean gasps, hands flailing up to grasp at his back, nails digging in. “Right there, Sammy, don’t fucking stop,” he begs, meeting Sam’s every thrust with a sinuous roll of his hips.

            They’re both moaning openly now, Dean’s voice getting higher and higher in pitch until he sobs out Sam’s name and starts to come for the second time, white streaks splattering both their chests. The shock of it hits Sam like a searing hot punch to the gut as his climax sneaks right up and knocks him over the edge. He growls, throwing out a hand to brace on the headboard as he snaps his hips ruthlessly into his brother, cock spilling hot and messy inside of him.

            When he’s finally wrung out, he nearly collapses on top of Dean, smearing the tacky mess of Dean’s release between them. Dean hardly notices, still trembling with aftershocks, tears of pure pleasure leaking from the corners of his eyes. He reaches up weakly and twines his arms around Sam, who leans in and kisses the tears from his cheeks.

            Dean pulls him in until his mouth his pressed against Sam’s ear. Still, Sam barely hears it when he whispers, “I love you.”

            Sam’s heart lurches in his chest and he crushes Dean tighter against him, showing him love though he can’t seem to get the words out, not without crying.

 

Months later when Dean’s ripped apart and dead in his arms, he’ll wish he’d had the courage to say it.

             


End file.
